Lone Survivor
by Cryophase
Summary: Among the horde of still, lifeless bodies, I could hear someone breathing...


The cold, resonant groans of dead machinery filled the air. A vile shadow of its pristine glory, the derelict vessel had been torn asunder and exposed to the void. The ground beneath my feet trembled; aches and spasms shaken out by the mere force of gravity.

It was no surprise what awaited me inside the Valhalla. Vermin had taken over and became a nuisance while I explored the ship that, save for those putrid pests, was utterly devoid of life.

It was tragic, really. A mere few months ago this ship was a Federation gem, setting for itself high expectations on its first journey into space. The Valhalla was only on a training mission when it was forced to endure its savage demise.

I was an explorer in fresh ruins. A ship of sleek, cutting-edge design, its decks now tattered and cluttered with debris. Hallways once illuminated and filled with green recruits were now darkened and filled only with their bodies. Everywhere, there were bodies. Such a staggering loss of human life. How terrifying it must have been for them, in the throes of a slaughter. The pirates had come here with murderous, greed-filled purpose and had, true to their reputation, taken no prisoners. Even I struggled to come to terms with the bloodied wreckage around me.

I hated witnessing the aftermath. I despised it because I couldn't help but think what I could have done to help if I had been there. How many more would have survived? How many people could I have saved? Perhaps I could have even turned the tide of the battle. Regret was not something I was prone to feeling, but something about this decrepit tomb of a ship evoked that most basic, bitter empathy.

I stopped moving. I turned my head. I had heard something that planted a small spark of hope in my mind. For among all the still, lifeless bodies, I could hear someone breathing.

A human survivor? Impossible. This ship had been afloat for months. But some part of me started making excuses, explanations for why a survivor was still something worth hoping for. Perhaps they had stored rations in their suit, or enacted some sort of stasis during the attack. I remained hopeful. Any chance, however small, that there was still someone alive aboard the Valhalla, demanded investigation. For a rare moment in my life I realized that I would be incredibly grateful, simply, to not be alone.

I approached the source of the sound. It was dark here, and the dimmed lighting made objects difficult to decipher. The room was cluttered with bodies, human and pirate alike. But somewhere among them there was a pulse. I needed to find it.

There.

So subtle as to be nearly nonexistent. But it was there. The steady rise and fall of a chest. The room was nearly void of light, and all I could really make out was something breathing. Wary, yet hopeful, I approached it.

As I came towards it and the darkness became less of an issue, I recognized what I was looking at. I staggered backwards and instantly that small hope was crushed. The lone survivor was not human.

At that same moment, he too, saw me. His turned his gnarled, alien face to mine and stared with six, beastly yellow eyes. My expression turned dour and I raised my arm canon, expecting an attack.

Curiously, none came. Usually even a severely injured pirate was zealous about unleashing that famous aggression on me. But this one didn't. I remembered Orpheon, and how each and every injured pirate jumped at the opportunity to attack me. A broken spine, a hemorrhaging brain, broken limbs, corroded flesh- it didn't matter, they would attack. So why then, didn't this one? It took me a moment to realize why.

A portion of the ceiling had come down upon him and his opponent. It had pinned him, jagged shrapnel impaling him through his abdomen and tying him permanently to the floor. His right leg had been crushed entirely beneath it, and each of his other limbs bore colossal punctures from the needly shrapnel.

Something wet and black trickled from each of his six eyes. Tears? No, that'd be personifying. He was merely bleeding. Pirate blood was black, and his had clotted, leaving messy streaks all over his body and staining the floor beneath him. But despite his body's attempts to repair itself, his wounds would never heal. And despite everything; the time elapsed, the massive trauma, even the swath of decaying vermin that abounded on the ship, he was still alive, and utterly helpless.

The rasp of his struggled breathing filled the empty room. The only two living beings here; he and I. One heart beating strong, and the other just barely holding on despite impossible odds. Those menacing eyes were still locked on to mine, quivering as his head shook with staggered breathing. He uttered something that at first I thought was nothing more than the usual garbled speech; roars and low, threatening growls. But his were quieter, almost passive, and after a while I realized they had a steady rythym to them. He was repeating himself.

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but just this once, I chose to translate the pirate's spoken words. I tapped a command into my visor and watched his Urtraghian words transcribe onto the screen.

_Kill me..._

I turned the translator off. The pirate broke his gaze from mine and stared listlessly at the ceiling. His twitching mandibles leaked blood at a slow, constant rate from his throat as he continued to tremble with every painful breath. The only sound in the room was that of the alien's quiet wheezing and his low, desperate pleas, playing like the twisted, redundant chorus of a sad song.

He didn't want to listen anymore, and neither did I.


End file.
